


Baking Without Flour

by notmyyacht



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Drabble, Feelings Realization, First Meetings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Other, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 01:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20827328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: Aziraphale's new next door neighbor is full of surprises.





	Baking Without Flour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DownToTheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownToTheSea/gifts).

> Was prompted by the lovely viennainspringtime on tumblr with the prompt "brand new neighbours au" with Aziraphale/Crowley~ Hope you enjoy it!!!!

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he entered Crowley’s apartment, but he at least expected that he’d be unpacked by now. But no, the place was stark with nothing on the walls, no photos on shelves, no books, hardly anything that said the place was “lived in.” 

Anthony J. Crowley had only moved in a little over a month ago and it seemed the only personal items he had were the various plants he kept.

A little over a month ago. It had felt longer than that. Aziraphale had known someone was moving in next door, but he hadn't had a chance to meet them until later that evening. He had just arrived home from the bookstore when he heard rustling in the apartment next door. 

_ Better go and introduce myself, _he thought, glancing around himself. Finding the copy of Dickens he had bought just for this occasion, he sntached it up and straightened his posture.

He knocked three times on the door and waited. The rustling from inside stopped. Aziraphale waited. For a moment, he wondered if his new neighbor wasn’t going to answer.

At last, the door swung open and revealed a lanky redhead, dressed in skinny jeans and… sunglasses? Aziraphale quickly hid any distaste for whatever fashion statement his new neighbor was trying to make.

“Hello, I’m Aziraphale, your neighbor. Welcome to the building!” he said with a grin as he held out the book for his neighbor to take. 

His neighbor glanced from the book to Aziraphale’s face, then down the hallway, then back to the book.

“Um, thanks,” he said, still not taking the book. Aziraphale felt his cheeks grow warm.

“This is for you; it’s just a little flat warming gift. I run the bookshop across the street. This copy of ‘Great Expectations’ is a special edition from-”

“I don’t really like books.”

Aziraphale felt his heart sink into his stomach. 

_ How could anyone not like books? _

The new neighbor must have seen something in Aziraphale’s expression; he reached out his hands and gently took the book.

“Thanks though,” he said. “Maybe I’ll make an exception.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and his smile returned.

“Yes, well, that is a good one, I assure you,” he beamed. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. It’s Crowley, Anthony J. Crowley.”

An odd start, granted, but one that grew into a sort of friendship.

Following their meeting, Aziraphale would, on occasion, bump into Crowley in the hallway. They would exchange pleasantries before going about their day. On one brave morning, Aziraphale asked Crowley to join him for breakfast at the cafe on the corner, to which Crowley agreed. 

A breakfast from time to time became a lunch, and then a dinner. They even went out for drinks one night. More than once had Crowley stepped into Aziraphale’s apartment, mostly only for a few moments as Aziraphale finished up whatever he was doing before they went out.

They weren’t dating. These meals weren’t dates. 

At least, that’s what Aziraphale kept telling himself. He liked Crowley, but only as a friend. They were far too different to ever make anything like that work. Friendship was fine. It worked.

Though, that didn’t stop Aziraphale from noticing the way Crowley would look at him sometimes. 

_ It’s all in your head _, he would tell himself.

Aziraphale had been baking. He wasn’t particularly good at it, and most days he indulged himself in buying from the local bakeries, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. 

He opened the lower cabinet door and frowned. Oh, right. He had meant to go shopping yesterday… He pursed his lips. 

_ Can’t bake without flour. _

He glanced at his front door. 

_ Surely Crowley must have flour? I don’t think he would mind if I borrowed some. _

A moment and two knocks later, Crowley cracked open his door. 

“Hello Crowley.”

“Aziraphale. What’s up?”

“Well, you see I’ve been baking - or I plan to do some baking - and it seems I have no flour. Would you mind if I…?”

“Sure.”

It was his first time in Crowley’s apartment. This must be what Gabriel had called a “minimalist lifestyle.” One that Aziraphale didn’t think he could ever try.

He paused by the kitchen island as Crowley opened his pantry and scanned the shelves. Aziraphale gave the apartment another look-over. Yes, minimalist. 

“You certainly like your plants,” he commented.

“Yeah, it’s a hobby,” Crowley replied. 

“They’re beautiful.” Aziraphale was about to make another comment about how perfectly green the leaves on that one plant in the corner were, when something caught his eye. 

On the island counter sat the copy of “Great Expectations” he gave Crowley the day they met. Among the pages at the top of the book, a silk black ribbon bookmark stuck out. From where it was placed, it was about two-thirds of the way through. 

“Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale looked up, his cheeks red. Crowley stood before him, bag of flour in hand. “Everything alright?”

“You’re reading it? I thought you said you didn’t like books,” said Aziraphale.

A smirk played at the corners of Crowley’s mouth.

“I also said I would make an exception for that one,” he replied.

“I thought you were just being polite.” 

Crowley opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, then closed it. He shook his head slightly and handed over the flour bag. 

“For your baking,” he said.

“Yes. Thank you.” Aziraphale could hear his own heart beating in his chest. “I shall bring you something when it’s done. I... I was thinking cupcakes.”

Crowley smiled again and Aziraphale felt like he was walking on air. Okay, he could admit to himself that he liked his neighbor a little more than he had thought before. 

“How _ tempting _. Can’t wait.”


End file.
